Assistance of the Past
by astracindel
Summary: A case involving the occult has Greg calling an old friend. Contains SLASH Cross with BtVS.
1. I Have a Friend

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this work of fiction. All characters belong to someone else...ie Mutant Enemy, CBS, etc...I make no money from this.

Summary: A case seeming to involve the occult has Greg calling in an old friend for his "expert" advice. SLASH

Rating: T--M

Warnings: Spoilers for Buffy through season seven as well as spoilers for CSI through season seven.

A/N: The main focus will be on CSI and not the Buffyverse.

Chapter One

"Jesus," Nick Stokes gasped as he looked around the current crime scene. "What the hell happened here?"

"That's what we're hoping you can figure out," Jim Brass sighed. "As best as we can tell there are at least five bodies; but we can't be certain because none of them are whole bodies. We've got four arms, three legs, eight hands, two feet, no heads, but five torsos. I've never seen anything like this in all of the years I've been on the force."

"Where's all of the blood?" Gil Grissom asked calmly. "With this many...parts...lying around, there should be more blood. Where is it?" The three men exchanged wary glances. "Nick, start processing here, I'll take outside. Greg," Gil said, facing the youngest member of his CSI team. "I want you to start with the rest of the area, Nick and I will join you when we finish."

"Sure thing boss," Greg said, a little more pale than usual. He took one more look at the body parts littering the room, then moved on to investigate the rest of the building as Grissom left to begin processing the outside, hoping to find something that would lead them to the person/persons who had done this.

Greg had processed two rooms, finding little more than a few smudged fingerprints and stray fibers. The dust on the floor of the rooms didn't even appear to be disturbed. Greg was readying his kit to move onto the next room in the abandoned warehouse when an inconsistency along the far wall caught his attention. It was barely noticeable, but there, on the wall was a spot slightly larger than a hand-print that seemed more worn than the rest of the wall. His curiosity piqued, along with the need to do a thorough job, he moved cautiously across the room. His first action, to dust for fingerprints, proved fruitless. He examined the wall around the worn spot, and barely caught the faint line of a seam in the wall. Taking a deep breath, he placed his gloved hand in the worn area and pushed.

"**NICK**...**GRISSOM**!!!!" Bellowed throughout the building.

Grissom had just returned from processing the outside of the building and was discussing with Nick the depressingly small amount of possible evidence he had found, when the shout echoed around the two men. Both men jumped at the panicked sound reverberating around them; with an anxious, worried glance between them, they made their way to their fellow CSI as quickly and carefully as possible.

When they found Greg, he was standing in an empty room in front of the entrance to a previously hidden area. Greg was shaking and had a grey parlor to his normal pale skin tone. He wasn't moving, merely staring intently at the room before him, his flashlight sweeping back and forth.

"Greggo, you okay?" Nick asked as he moved closer.

"Greg?" Grissom said gently as he entered the room. Neither man could see into the room Greg was staring into.

"I...I think I found...found the...the missing blood," Greg stammered.

"Dear God," Grissom gasped, for once letting his stoic composure falter as he took in the scene before him.

Grissom, Nick, and Greg were gathered in the supervisor's office the next night, going over the limited findings from their crime scene.

"No usable prints or trace and the only DNA found was the blood from our bo...vics," Nick sighed. "Five blood contributions, matching each of the five torsos found; all male. All of the...parts...found, including what was found in the room Greg discovered, matched back. We're still missing the heads, however."

"According to the ME," Grissom began, "all had recently engaged in...sexual activities. No sign of rape, all samples matched back to the vics. Vics three and five shared seminal fluid, and vics one, two, and four also exchanged seminal fluid; one with four with two with one. There were no matches for our vics in AFIS or CODIS."

"So no help there. We have no idea how they are all related, other than the possibility of being gay, judging by the seminal contributions." Nick huffed, dismayed at their lack of evidence to find the perpetrators of this crime. "What about all of that blood that Greg found. Those weird symbols on the walls and floor. Anything from those?"

"Nothing that we can discern. The symbols look like some kind of runes but don't match anything known so far." Grissom heaved a weary sigh. "What are your thoughts Greg?"

Greg started at the sound of his name. "Wha?" He blushed. "Oh. I got nothing...but...I think..." he stopped, unsure whether he should continue.

"You think..." Nick prompted.

Greg glanced nervously at the two men in the room. He was about to voice an opinion that was so far from left field he knew neither of the men would see it coming. Ever since he had found the hidden room, his mind had been screaming that this was something so far out of the realm of normal, that his colleagues would think he was insane for suggesting it. But, in the pit of his stomach he knew he was right, and he knew they would need to contact some...questionable assistance. Images of his summer vacation during his third year at college, when he had to spend a week in Oxnard, kept running through his mind. He had the same creeping/gut-wrenching/oh-shit feeling he had during that time. He b knew /b he was right. But, he was terrified to voice his opinion, because unless you've seen it for yourself, you just can't believe it. He had to be very careful on how he said this, and how he offered to contact an "expert".

"I think it's de..." Greg coughed, seeming to clear his throat. "I think its occult related."

"Occult?" Nick asked incredulously. "You mean like voodoo/witchcraft/satanism?"

"Nooooo," Greg drawled slowly, cautiously. "Well yes, but not what you're thinking. I mean in sacrificial...power-raising...Occult. A lot more...hardcore than what you're thinking. A lot darker than you're thinking. Someone thinking they can ' i raise /i ' something."

"Look Greggo, I know you're into all kinds of odd things," Nick began. "But really, occult..."

"I agree Greg," Grissom interrupted. "And I commend you on stating such a...controversial...opinion. I have been doing some research in that area, actually, but I haven't been able to find anything remotely relating to what we are looking at."

"You can't be serious!" Nick exclaimed. "Occult...witchcraft...power-raising...whatever! No way!"

"Nicky," Grissom began patiently. "We see things that don't fit everyday..."

"It's all about faith," Greg interrupted, facing Nick. "We're all about facts and evidence. **Faith** doesn't require that. While there is no evidence to prove, beyond doubt, that there is God, it doesn't stop people's **faith** that there is. That's what I think this is...someone's **faith** that they will be able to reach their God. It's ritualistic...All of the torsos were missing their hearts and genitalia...and heads...faces. I'm sorry, but my...my gut...is screaming that this is about some...Power...God...Ritual...forgotten to time."

"You can't be serious. C'mon Greg! Mutilation equals** faith**! You can't be serious!!" Nick claimed.

"How many of the Greek, Roman, Native American, other lost culture Gods required human sacrifice...mutilation?" Grissom asked. "We can't rule out that this is an obscure faith of sorts? It does appear ritualistic...especially with the bloody symbols."

Greg's eyes darted between the two men staring at each other. He wasn't surprised at Nick's reaction...being born and raised in Texas...Greg just unfairly assumed he would be slightly closed minded...even after all of this time working as a CSI. Grissom surprised him...slightly. He knew of the two, Grissom would be the first to really see what he was trying to point out. Gris may not be the best at human interaction, but he knew human actions. His knowledge and acceptance of occult possibilities didn't surprise Greg so much as his immediate agreement of them. He thought for sure Gris would tell him to get all of the facts before voicing his ludicrous opinion.

"I have..." Greg coughed, "I have a...friend...that is sort of an occult expert. I...I can call him. See what he can make of those symbols we found. If anyone can find them, he can."

"G, we don't need some half-baked freak that goes around claiming to be an occult expert to help. I know the PD uses them sometimes...and sure they get lucky every once in a while..." Nick began to protest.

"As far as I know, he's never worked with a PD," Greg interrupted. "Actually, he usually tends to stay away from them. But he b knows /b this stuff!! He's been de...researching this stuff since he was fifteen...he knows it or where to find it. Trust me...if its some sort of forgotten godly worship he will know...or at least where to find if thats what it is. If its not, no big deal...but if it is...and it requires thirty bodies..." he trailed off.

"He might be able to give us an MO behind the murders or where to start looking for these people," Nick said, reluctantly.

Greg nodded.

"Greg, how soon can you contact your friend?" Grissom asked.

Greg pulled out his cell phone and began dialing.


	2. Meeting the Experts

Chapter Two

The next night Nick, Greg, and Grissom were gathered in an evidence room going over the pictures from the crime scene. Grissom was busy making notes on the symbols they had found. Nick was studying the pictures intently hoping to find some clue they had overlooked. Greg was nervously tapping his fingers on the table top.

"Sanders," Greg answered when his cell phone rang.

"You have visitors at the front desk."

"Be right there." He closed his phone and put it away. "They're here," he said as he left the room. Nick and Grissom followed behind him.

There were two men waiting for them at reception. One was a tall brunet with broad shoulders. He was well muscled, wearing tight blue jeans, a green t-shirt, and had a relaxed expression on his face as he scanned the room. What caught their attention however was the black eye patch over his left eye. His companion was slightly shorter than him. He was dressed in black jeans and black t-shirt with a long black leather duster flowing around him. His hair was dyed a shocking white-blond and his piercing blue eyes were taking in everything around him, a feeling of danger and menace radiated from the man.

You could tell the second the brunet spotted Greg. His face lit up in a bright lopsided grin, and he seemed to begin to bounce in place. "Greg!" he said happily, before grabbing the young CSI in a bone crushing hug.

Nick and Grissom watched the two greet each other in amused silence.

"Xander...leggo...oxygen...good," Greg gasped. His friend released him and stepped back with a sheepish grin. "God, look at you. You're all buff and rugged looking. What the hell happened to your eye? When did it happen? Why didn't you tell me anything about it? What happened to Sunnydale? I seen it on the news, but you never really answered my emails. What have you been doing? Last I heard you were in Cleveland."

"Bleedin' hell," the blond complained. "Don't any of you lot know anyone that doesn't soddin' babble?"

Greg blushed scarlet while Nick and Grissom tried to hide their soft snickering.

"Umm...right," Greg coughed, trying to regain his composure. "I guess introductions would be good. This is Nick Stokes, CSI III, and Gil Grissom, my boss. We're working this case together. Nick, Gris, this is Xander Harris and..."

"Spike," the blond supplied.

"Spike," Greg eeped, wide eyed.

"Ah, the whelp's told ya 'bout me then." Greg continued to stare. "All good things I'm sure," he finished cheekily.

Xander snorted and a muttered "Yeah right" could be heard.

"If you could put these on," Grissom said, handing Xander and Spike each a visitor's pass, "and follow us, we'll show you what we've got."

Greg grabbed Xander's hand and tugged him ahead of the rest of the group. Nick could hear the hushed whispers of their conversation, but couldn't tell what was being said. Judging by Greg's body language, however, something had upset him. He strained to hear what was being said, but had no luck. The quiet chuckles coming from the blond...Spike...indicated that the other man was not having the same problem as Nick though. They moved quickly along the glass lined corridors to return to the evidence viewing room.

"Here's what we have so far," Greg said, indicating the photos on the table with a sweep of his arm.

Nick and Grissom studied the two new men intently when they moved towards the table, watching for their reactions to the crime scene photographs. They were shocked when the only reactions were a small disgusted wince from Xander. Spike didn't so much as blink as he examined the photos. Nick and Grissom exchanged a glance, both had clearly expected more of a reaction.

"Ugh, that's a lot of blood," Xander said. "How many bodies would it take to get that much?"

"About five," Spike answered, without looking up, before any of the CSIs could respond.

"Uh, we found five dismembered bodies at the scene," Nick said, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

"Told ya," Spike smirked. Xander rolled his eye.

"Yeah, yeah Blondie. You are the all knowing of all things blood and gore. Here, doesn't this look familiar," Xander said, handing Spike one of the photos.

Spike looked closely at the photo. "Yeah. Its one of those languages that Peaches tried to get me to learn back in the day. Ken'tesh, Mooglur, something...its one of the central African ones. I never seen the need to learn those, since at the time I hadn't planned on ever going there. Coulda used it a few years ago. Red should be able to get us a translation if we send her copies of these. Should even be able to tell us which ritual this is too."

"I thought I recognized it. Woulda been handy while I was there too. Right. We'll need to hit the local information spots. See if we can find anyone who knows what's going on. Got a feeling the higher-ups aren't going to be to happy with something like this going on in their town. Vegas is pretty neutral."

"Too right. This sort of thing brings to much attention. Plus, they ain't gonna want something coming up that's badder than them. Which this could be. Lots of the old big bads are from that area. If this is to raise one of those..."

Grissom coughed. "Excuse me. Could you perhaps tell us what you are talking about?"

"Oh. Uh." Xander blushed. "Sorry 'bout that. We're just used to making plans on the spot like that. Sorry, Mr. Grissom."

"It's alright," Grissom smiled. "We have a tendency to run off like that around here, as well. Now, if you could tell us what you think this is..."

"Right. You see these runes," Xander pointed to one of the pictures. "Spike and I both recognize them from our trips to Africa. Its fairly common in the central African clans, but I never got the chance to learn it while I was there. I didn't stay in one place long enough. Anyway, see this area here," he indicated another picture, "this is were the sacrifices would have happened. That's the sp...umm...power circle. They would have wanted to contain all of the power of the sacrifices in there. By making the runes in the victims blood, it would have added power to the ritual."

"It's always about the blood," Spike said off-handedly.

"Greg, do you know where the local hangouts are?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. I made it a point to find them when I first moved here, just in case," Greg nodded.

"Smart boy," Spike said with a leer. "Coming with us while we check them out?"

Greg caught the leer and glanced nervously at Xander. "Umm...I...umm..."

"Whoa...whoa...whoa. Greg's not going anywhere with you. Now what in the hell are you talking about? Local information spots, higher-ups, Vegas being neutral...and what does African clans have to do with all of this?!" Nick shouted at the end of his patience.

Spike narrowed his eyes at the Texan. "We were just talking about doing all of your leg work for you, and taking care of this problem you've got; seeing as to how there is no way anyone with the information you need would talk to any of you. But, if you don't want our help that's fine, Xan and I are out of here. Not like I'd hurt your boy or anything. Actually, he'd be safer with me and Xan than the entire police department," he snapped.

"Spike," Xander sighed heavily. "We're here to help, not get into pissing contests. Sorry, we're just used to getting things done, and having everyone who we're working with already up to speed on everything. Every major city has a de...an occult sub-culture. For the most part they police themselves and the rest of the population is never aware of them. Some areas have a more active community than others, like in New York, we've worked with their CSIs a few times now."

"They hate seeing us coming," Spike interrupted.

"Las Vegas, though, is usually pretty quiet," Xander continued. "The de...occult leaders in town all have their hands in the casinos and other touristy things. They aren't going to want their boat rocked, something like this isn't going to go unnoticed. They're going to want to take care of this as soon as possible, but like Spike just said, they're not going to talk to you guys. You're not part of the community, you won't get anything out of them."

"And you're part of this community?" Grissom asked. "You just arrived in Las Vegas."

Xander let a small smirk play on his lips while Spike chuckled evilly.

"Actually Mr. Grissom," Xander said, "I can pretty much guarantee that you can walk into any local haven in any city on the planet...say our names...and you'll get a reaction."

"And just what are you to this community to be so well known?" Nick asked disbelievingly.

"Peacekeepers," Spike said seriously. "We take care of those who are doing things that will endanger others."

"Vigilantes," Grissom said with distaste.

"I really hate newbies," Xander sighed. "No offense. We get this all the time. It's just...if you're not part of this world then..."

"They're not vigilantes, guys," Greg spoke up for his friend. "At least not the way your thinking. Trust me, what they do is needed, and its not something that normal police departments are able to handle. I would really hate to see some of the things that could have happened if people like them weren't around."

Nick narrowed his gaze on Greg. "You know more about what's going on than you've let on. Give Greg, what's really going on?"

"I don't know any more about this case than what I've told you already," Greg said honestly.

"Maybe not. But you know a helluva lot more about this occult stuff than you've said."

"Not really. Not a lot. Some. A little." Greg said nervously, eyes darting around the room, while he chewed on his bottom lip.

"I have to agree with Nick," Grissom said. "You do seem to know more than you've told us, Greg. If you've been with-holding information that could help with this case..."

"NO! I've told you all I know by calling Xan. I swear," Greg defended himself.

"You should be thanking the boy for knowing who to call to help with this instead of accusing him of hiding things," Spike growled. "He had to have been worried about your reactions to calling us in, and what we would have to say. Instead he stepped up and did his job. Leave the kid alone."

"Spike. They're confused. They've just been told something pretty unbelievable and they haven't processed yet. They're lashing out, we see this all the time. But I agree. Back off on Greg," Xander said with a matching growl.

Grissom looked justly chagrined and nodded his head once in agreement. Nick stood gaping at the two men, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. Finally, his mouth snapped shut and he gritted out between clinched teeth, "Who the hell do you think you are? You just come in here, start telling us all of this shit about unknown sub-cultures who police themselves and you're the peacekeepers of that community, known world-wide according to you. You spout off all this bull-hockey, want to take Greggo with you to god knows where, and expect us to just be okay with it. What in the hell have you done to earn that kind of trust?"

Spike stepped protectively in front of Xander. "You want to know what Xan's done to earn that kind of trust, to earn a respect you can only dream of having? He's been protecting people from those that would kill you in a heartbeat without a second thought since he was fifteen. He's seen more friends...family...killed by these...things than any one person should ever see," Spike growled. "He didn't just lose his home to this, he lost his whole damn town. He lost his eye to one of those assholes because I wasn't fast enough when we were trying to stop him."

Xander placed a calming hand on Spike's shoulder. "Hey, reign it in. It's no big deal. He's trying to rationalize, and there's more than a little shock there too," he said softly.

"Oh my god!" Everyone turned to look at the gaping Greg. "You two are together!"

Spike smirked, while Xander had a small shy smile. "Uh yeah. A little over a year now."

"You can't be with...with him!" Greg shouted. "That's just wrong Xan! You know its wrong! How could you?"

"Greg," Xander sighed. "It just kinda happened."

"Just kinda happened?" Greg repeated. "No, Xan. That doesn't just kinda happen. How can you...with...him?!"

"He's safe as houses with me," Spike said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Nobody's talking to you!" Greg snapped. Spike broke into a full grin.

"Greg," Grissom began, "I never knew you felt that way about homosexuality. I'm afraid that I will have to pull you off this case since you feel so strongly on the issue, as it appears that our victims may have all been gay."

Greg stopped glaring at Spike to look at his co-workers while Grissom was talking. He could see the disappointed look in Grissom's eyes, and the crestfallen expression on Nick's face. Finally, what Grissom had said sank in.

"What? No...No. Trust me, I have no problem with some man-on-man lovin'."

"Then what is your problem with their relationship?" Grissom asked patiently.

"It's not the gay thing. It's that Spike...he's...he's a..." Greg tried to explain.

"A Brit," Spike supplied helpfully, grinning like a madman.

"Yes!" Greg said too quickly. "He's a Brit. And you know how dangerous...Brit's are Xan. They'll drain the life out of you and toss you into the gutter. I know you haven't always dated..."

"Americans," Spike supplied again, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Yeah, Americans. But you've never dated anyone as dangerous as a...Brit...before. What are you thinking?"

"Ya do know that a couple us Brit's do have souls and can love just the same are the rest of you, right?" Spike asked. The tone was serious, but you only had to look into his eyes to see the laughter there.

"I don't care. It doesn't change that you're a...a Brit," Greg said, not backing down.

"G, ain't that takin' patriotism a bit far?" Nick asked.

Xander sighed heavily and looked at his watch. "Less than two hours. That's a new record. It took Taylor, in New York, three hours to lose it. I miss the Sunnydale PD, they never paid attention to anything. Real cops pay to much attention and CSIs are even worse. Right. This isn't going to work without **all **cards on the table for you guys is it?"

Grissom and Nick shook their heads. Greg looked at him apologetically.

"That's what I thought," he sighed again. "Alright. Let's get this over with. To save time, can you get your ME up here, and can we go somewhere a little less...see-through?"

"We can go to my office," Grissom offered. "But why do you need our ME?"

"For their medical opinion, of course," Xander said.

"Right," Nick drawled. "I'll meet you in your office, Gris, after I get Doc Robbins."

"Albert Robbins?" Xander asked.

"Yes," Grissom said cautiously. "How do you know him?"

"This might not be so hard after all," Xander smiled. "You'll get all of your answers once Al is with us. Let's go."


	3. Getting Answers?

**Chapter Three**

"You wanted to see me, Gil?" Al Robbins asked as he entered the office everyone was gathered in.

"Actually, our guests asked that you be present, for your medical opinion, while they explain what they know about the case we are working on," Grissom answered, indicating the two men sitting on the couch.

Doc Robbins looked at the two men and sighed. "I'm about to get outed aren't I?"

" 'Fraid so, Doc," Xander said, apologetically. "Less than two hours and it was obvious that the half-truths and omissions weren't going to work. They set a new record."

"I spoke with Rupert earlier. He said you had received a call from a friend and were on your way here. He didn't mention you, however, William."

" 'Course he didn't," Spike snorted. "Not like he pays any mind to what I do. No way was I lettin' my Xan come to Vegas alone. Giles weren't gonna send anyone with him."

"Your Xan?" he asked with a stern glare at Spike. "Harris, I cannot believe that you would get mixed up with...you know better, despite his...unique circumstances that still does not change the fact that he is what he is."

"Thank you!" Greg exclaimed. "That's what I've been saying too. Spike's a...a...a Brit and he's not going to change the way he is. He won't listen," he finished in a whine.

"Because he's a Brit?" Al asked raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure Rupert will love hearing that."

"You know what I mean!"

"And the two of you don't know him," Xander finally snapped. "Look, I've been right where you are, when he was sleeping with Buffy. I didn't trust him for years, but he's earned the trust. He's proved himself time and again. Just drop it. You're not with us, you don't know. There are exceptions to every rule, both of you should know that. And hey, he hasn't tried to kill me since we've been together, that's more I can say for any of the women I was ever involved with."

"I haven't tried to kill you in years, whelp," Spike defended. "I can't remember the last time I tried to kill you."

"You haven't actively tried to kill me since our first forced co-habitation. That doesn't mean you didn't hang back to see if something else would do it for you," Xander said with a grin.

"Yeah, well. Couldn't do it myself anymore now could I?"

"Excuse me," Grissom interrupted. His eyes darted between the two men, a confused frown on his face. "Could we please discuss whatever it is that you wanted to come in here for?"

"I still want to know what the big deal is about him being British," Nick muttered. "Are you serious that he really tried to kill you in the past?"

"Yup," Xander nodded. He smirked at the disbelieving, bug-eyed looks. "It was a long time ago. Things changed. He's not usually like that any more. Promise."

"Al, how do you know these men?" Grissom asked.

"That, is a long story," Robbins sighed. "Greg, I take it you are the friend that called Xander." Greg nodded. "I wish I had known that you knew about this, it would have made things easier over the years."

"C'mon Doc," Nick said impatiently. "Just tell us what's going on here."

"The world is older than you know," Xander started. "Blah, blah, blah. I hate that speech. Basically, everything you thought was fiction, isn't. Demons, vampires, werewolves, magic, all of that is real. We fight those things that go bump in the night that are trying to destroy humans."

"Oh please," Nick snorted. "You don't really expect us to believe this do you? You're totally off your rocker. Greg, I can't believe you would call someone like this."

"Hear them out," Greg said quietly. "I know for a fact he's telling the truth."

"Al," Grissom said.

"It's the truth, Gil. I'm a Watcher. I keep an eye on the demonic activity here in Vegas and let the right people know if something, like your case, happens. Which is how I knew Xander was on his way here. The Council send in someone to handle the situation so that it never becomes public."

"Do you have proof?" Grissom asked.

"You can't seriously be listening to this Gris," Nick protested.

"If they can provide proof, I don't see how we can't accept it," Grissom said calmly. "We have to follow the evidence."

"Actually, William there is your proof. I can tell you that his body temperature would be the same as this room, he doesn't require oxygen, and has no pulse," Al said just as calmly.

"What, he's a zombie?" Nick snorted.

"I ain't no bloody zombie. Nasty buggers those," Spike grumbled.

Grissom had moved over to their guests. He approached Spike slowly and asked, "May I?"

"Knock yerself out," Spike said.

Grissom let his fingers trail over Spike's neck, noting the coolness of his skin. He then placed two fingers firmly where a pulse should have been found. He frowned and grabbed the man's wrist searching for the pulse there. Still not finding anything, he placed his ear to the unmoving chest.

"There's no heartbeat," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

"What? No way," Nick said as he moved over to Spike.

As Nick placed his fingers on Spike's neck, Spike said, "I told you I ain't no bloody zombie." Suddenly the smooth face was transformed into a distorted mask of ridges. His blue eyes were now a gastly yellow, and his canines had elongated into fangs. "I'm a vampire," he said as Nick fell back onto his ass.

"Holy shit," Nick breathed.

"Fascinating," Grissom said, staring at the sight before him.

Greg's only reaction was to let out a small eep and step further away from the couch.

"I hardly believe that was necessary," Doc Robbins chastised the laughing vampire.

"Sooo not nice," Xander scolded.

"Of course it weren't nice," Spike scoffed. "I'm a vampire, I'm not nice. Besides, he deserved it." He noticed Grissom's fingers twitching. "No, you can't touch 'em. And don't be getting any ideas 'bout experimentin' on me. Had enough of that to last for a few lifetimes, ta very much."

"How did you find out about this Al?" Grissom asked. His hand still twitched, wanting to reach out and touch the face before him, and you could see the hundreds of questions and theories in his eyes.

"The Council approached my family when my sister and I were still pretty young. They told us what they did and why. The initial meeting didn't go very well. They were a bit..."

"Stuck up, condensending, know-it-all assholes," Xander supplied.

"Very much so."

"Travers," Xander said disgustedly.

Doc Robbins nodded. "Quentin's father actually. Needless to say, the apple didn't fall far from the tree."

"Can't say I feel bad he got blown up," Xander huffed.

"They were not happy my family didn't want to cooperate with their plans. They continued to try to get my parents cooperation for years. I decided that I wanted to become a Watcher when I was sixteen and a friend was killed by a vampire. They had lost interest in my family by that point. I've never been an active field Watcher like Xander, but I did receive the training and contacts to help inform those who could help if something happened."

"Greg?"

"Summer after my third year of college. I was headed from home to my intern interview with the San Fransisco PD. I had planned to spend a week sightseeing before the interview. I got a late start and stopped in Oxnard over night, that was the plan anyway. I got a room, then decided to do some exploring. I was walking down the streets when something grabbed me and drug me into an alley. I remember feeling like my chest was being crushed and then nothing except a cloud of dust falling on me. I turned around and there Xander was with a stake in his hand. I ended up staying for the week and Xan told me about everything."

"I tried to get him to believe the dude had just run away. Obviously it didn't work."

"What about you?" Nick had regained enough sense to ask Xander.

"It all started with a girl," Xander said with a lopsided grin. "But her, I can't and won't tell you about. There are somethings that some people just never need to know, and her secret is one of them. Anyway, our high school librarian was...is a Watcher, he's actually the head of the Council now. I overheard him telling the girl about vampires. I didn't believe it at first, but then my best friend was turned. He was the first vamp I staked. We were fifteen. I've been fighting ever since with Buffy, Willow, and Giles, our Watcher."

"So, you just kill these...vampires, demons, whatever. You're a murder," Nick protested.

"A vampire would snap your neck and drain you dry before you could scream for help," Spike said. "You are food, cattle. They don't care who you are, you're just a Happy Meal with legs for them. They don't kill just for food. It's all about the violence, the rush that the blood gives them. We're not talking about the maudlin vampires that bloody Anne Rice wrote. We're talking real, violent, deadly vampires, that are five times stronger and faster than you. Your guns don't work, knives don't work. Stakes, sun, fire, decapitation those will kill a vamp, holy objects will injure. The general public can't protect themselves, that's why there are people out there protecting the rest of you."

"It's still murder," Nick seethed. Faster than he could blink, Nick found himself wrapped in arms of steel, his head pulled to the side, and Spike's mouth on his neck.

"What are you going to do Cowboy?" Spike hissed. "You can't move. I've got you, and I could have you drained and dead in less than three minutes. There are thousands of vampires in this country, probably a couple of hundred in this city. You're helpless. What do you think would happen to the rest of you humans if there weren't people like Xan?"

Nick struggled in the embrace. His breathing became ragged and his eyes became wide with panic.

"Let him go," Greg shouted as Xander was getting ready to speak. "He's claustrophobic, you're going to send him into a panic attack."

Spike immediately released Nick and stepped away. Greg made it to Nick and cupped his face, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Hey, you're alright. You're free. It's okay Nicky," Greg crooned softly, trying to calm the other man.

"Sorry," Spike said softly. "I was trying to make a point. I didn't mean to cause that."

"He was kidnapped a few years ago," Grissom said just a softly. "He was buried in a plexi-glass coffin. There was a web cam set up to a light. We were given access to it. Every time we viewed the cam, the light would come on and Nick could see exactly where he was."

"I know how that feels," Spike said. "I had to dig my way out of my coffin when I was turned."

"I guess we have something in common then," Nick said, his breathing back under control. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking...how long have you been a..."

"Vamp?" Spike asked with a wistful smile. "I was turned in 1880. All told, human and vamp, I'm one hundred and fifty years old."

"Wow," Greg breathed. "That is so cool."

"Ta mate."

"So, that whole freaking out you were doing ealier, about them being together," Nick looked at Greg, "that was about him being a vampire, not British, right?"

"Yes," Greg giggled. "I couldn't exactly say what I was really meaning."

"Right. And the not always dating Americans?"

"I'm a demon magnet," Xander sighed. "I've only dated one fully human, and she later became half demon. My ex-fiance was a former Vengance demon turned human when she created an alternate reality my ex wished up. Returned to demon when I left her at the alter. Turned human, again, when she couldn't do the job anymore. There was the mantis lady that wanted my virgin seed to fertilize her eggs before she ate me. The mummy girl that sucked the life force out of people. The woman from the hardware store that stuck a knife in my stomach and tried to scarifice me..."

Nick and Grissom looked horrified as Xander went on about his past relationship encounters. Greg snickered loudly before saying, "You didn't tell me about the hardware store."

"It was close to the end...before we really knew what was going on," Xander said sadly.

"I got there in time that time," Spike said, taking his hand. Xander gave him a bright smile.

"What's this Council you keep talking about?" Grissom asked, coming out of his stupor.

"The Watcher's Council. Well, its the International Council of Watchers now. Most of the former Council was blown up a few years ago by a demonic entity bent on destroying them. Giles, and the rest of us, reformed it after that," Xander started to explain. "We gather information on demons and well...watch for any activity that needs to be stopped. I was the head Watcher for Africa for the first two years while we were reforming. The HQ is still in London, where it's always been...that's where you usually find Giles. I'm in Cleveland now, we're the HQ for the activity in the States."

"If you aren't going to need me anymore, I've got bodies waiting on me," Doc Robbins said.

"Hey Doc, do you ever get vamps coming in?"

"Those would be the bodies that are picked up so suddenly by family that no one ever sees," Al smirked as he left the office.

"Damn," Nick breathed. "Okay. I got the point. I still can't really agree that just killing vampires is acceptable. But, I'll wait until I have more information before I make any kind of real judgment."

"That's all that we ask," Xander said. "You have to understand that demons are just like humans. Some are normal and peaceful others are completely evil. It took me a while to see the good side. Anya, my ex-fiance, really helped me see beyond just the black and white. Although, it took me years to stop being such a hypicritcal ass. But the evil is still there, and still has to be stopped. That's what we do. We stop the ones killing and plotting to destroy the world, the others we leave alone."

"Soo, what makes...umm...Spike a good vampire?" Nick asked.

"Bloody hell. You're just full of questions," Spike grumped, good naturedly.

Xander and Spike spent the next hour explaining about themselves, Sunnydale, and everything they had experienced over the years.

"Spike's an ass, but he'll do the right thing," Xander assured them. "He's been fighting with us for seven years now. Took me five of those years to finally trust him. I can't tell you how many times he's saved my life and the lives of others."

"So, what do you need to do?" Grissom asked, coming out of the spell the story telling had created.

"The first thing we need to do is send those pictures back to Cleveland so that our people can get to work translating and looking for the ritual they are doing," Xander answered.

"We can't allow those pictures to float around freely," Grissom protested. "There's chain of evidence that we have to follow."

"No problem," Xander said and looked at the ceiling. "Hey Wills, we need one of our laptops."

Grissom and Nick both jumped when a light suddenly filled the room and a laptop landed at Xander's feet. "So cool," Greg breathed.

"How?" Nick and Grissom both asked.

"Magic," Xander answered with a shrug. "This is a Council laptop. It's only connected to our database. No one else has access to it. We can download the pictures onto it and send it back to Cleveland, via magic gram. Only Willow and Giles will see what we send. While they figure out what all of this is, we can hit the local demon hangouts and see if we can get some answers there. Unless you know of someone else that has a database of demonic languages and rituals."

"No," Grissom sighed. "You give your word that those pictures will not be released to the public?"

"Mr. Grissom, we've been keeping things like this out of the public for the last twelve years...I don't think we'll be changing that anytime soon."

"Alright then. Greg, help Xander download the photos to his laptop. Once that's taken care of, we'll go with you to these hangouts."

"Sure thing, Gris. C'mon Xan," Greg said, heading for the door.

"Hey Greggo," Nick said as Greg reached the office door. "That case Cath and 'Rick had, at that blood bar...when you gave them that cross and stake..."

"I was being totally serious," he smirked as he left the room.


End file.
